


the moon and all the stars

by halfwheeze



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, brief flashback but literally one line
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 07:18:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13382892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfwheeze/pseuds/halfwheeze
Summary: prompt: "stanlon? something fluffy?"





	the moon and all the stars

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this got to be a lot longer than intended! Hope y'all enjoy!

Stan knows that looking at the stars isn’t what they’re out here for, but it’s too tempting not to, and they’re so pretty in the clear night of the Hanlon farm. Mike is sat immediately to his left, nearly close enough to touch, though Stan usually isn’t one to even admit that he would want to. But, he does want to. He wants to hold Mike’s hands and maybe lay with him and would maybe like to know what kissing him would be like, but that’s neither here nor there. He’s settled in liking Mike, in wanting to spend even more time with him than usual,  with the rest of the Losers. That’s why they’re out tonight, after all. There are barn owls by the back fence of the Hanlon farm, and that’s what Stan’s supposed to be looking at. Not at the stars, and certainly not at Mike.

“Have you see any yet, Stan?” Mike asks, pulling Stan out of his reverie with a shoulder bumping into his. He looks from the stars to Mike, shaking his head. It’s harder to get lost in bad thoughts when Mike is next to him, to spiral as he often does alone. Mike stays close enough that their shoulders are touching now, just lingering next to Stan like it doesn’t make his heart beat faster. Still, the calming nature of Mike Hanlon and the Hanlon farm washes over Stan, making him not so anxious as he normally might be. He wants to hold Mike’s hand. Then comes a welcome distraction.

An owl swoops down from a tree, looking to be hunting. Stan excitedly scrambles for his book and the flashlight, handing the latter to Mike. Patiently, the other boy holds the light for Stan to be able to write, jotting down all the details he can gather about the owl in the blackness of the night. Stan almost doesn’t realise the closeness of their skin, except in all the ways that he does: the warmth of Mike, the way his free hand is splayed on Stan’s thigh, the sound of his breath next to Stan’s ear. It would take next to no effort to turn his head and kiss Mike, but he’s not that kind of brave.

“I’m done,” Stan announces, grinning and closing his book before looking over at Mike. He thought the other boy had moved back, but instead the dark eyes of Mike Hanlon stare at him from what seems like centimeters away. Mike puts the flashlight down without turning it off, but the only thing Stan really notices is that he isn’t moving back. He’s still so tantalizingly close, so affectingly close. Stan startles when a hand comes to rest on the edge of his jaw, pulling him just a hair’s breadth closer.

“Is this okay?” Mike asks, and his voice is even softer than his hand, though not so soft as his eyes. Stan gives one motion of a nod, not trusting his voice in this close atmosphere. It is nothing, then, for Mike to lean forward and give Stan the softest of kisses, though he doesn’t have much to compare it to. He’s fourteen and receiving his first kiss at what feels like midnight on a Saturday night, with Mike Hanlon. It’s quite possibly the most romantic thing Stan’s even heard of. Except that it didn’t occur to him to kiss back until right now. His hand comes to the side of Mike’s face, tilting the other boy’s head on instinct, and Stan kisses him back as well as he can.

Kissing is an incredible thing. Stan decides that startlingly quickly; he wants to kiss Mike for a very long time, for as long as the other boy would let him. When Mike pulls away, it’s everything Stan can do not to follow his lips, and he’s pretty sure Mike knows that with the quiet chuckle between them.

“I really like you, Stan,” Mike says, still quiet in the quiet night, and Stan just pulls him close. He’s never been good at words, and he’s usually worse with physical affirmations, but pulling Mike in for a hug is second nature after feeling his lips, his hands. Mike practically pulls him into his lap, and it was a good choice, it was totally a good choice, because being close to Mike is like being close to the human form of a favorite blanket, comforting and warm and just feels so much like home. Stan settles his head against Mike’s shoulder before speaking.

“I really like you too, Mike,” he whispers, again not really trusting his voice, but it’s more than that. It’s almost as if their quietus is a necessary aspect of them, but Stan doesn’t want to think this much. He pulls Mike somehow closer and blanks his mind, attempting to wipe everything away and just think of Mike. It’s easier when Mike’s hand cards through his hair, messing with the ringlet curls. The trust between them feels like a physical thing; Stan barely lets his mother play with his hair anymore, remembering the clawing feeling of the painting woman’s -

_ ~~Don’t remember, don’t remember, don’t remember, everything is better when you don’t remember.~~ _

Mike is soft, but solid. Stan likes that about the feeling of his chest, about leaning against Mike and breathing him in. He doesn’t know when Mike lays back on the grass or how long they stay like that, just laying in the grass on top of one another, but he knows it’s been long enough that he should be freaking out. He should be thinking about dirt and germs and grass stains and how they won’t come out of Mike’s clothes, but he knows that Mike won’t mind. Mike never minds that kind of thing, because he’s Mike and he’s beautiful and he’s kind and he’s calm and he never minds.

“We should probably go inside for the night, Stan,” Mike suggest eventually, moving the hand that’s been resting on Stan’s lower back for the first time in perhaps ten minutes. Stan can’t hold back his noise of protest, though he is slightly embarrassed by it after the fact; Mike just laughs, pulling Stan impossibly a little closer. “You can lay on me inside too, we’ll just hand blankets,” he assuages, giving Stan a nudge so maybe he’ll get up. Stan sighs, sitting up, getting all the way off of Mike before everything clicks in. He just laid on Mike for what seemed to be at least an hour. Mike says he can do it again. But what are they doing? What’s going on? Everything needs a name and a label inside of Stan’s mind, and he can’t stand the lack thereof.

“Hey, Stan, don’t do this. Come back to me now,” Mike says softly, sitting up and cupping Stan’s chin again. “Everything is going to be okay. We’re just going inside, nothing is going to change, we’re just going to be inside. You have to tell me what’s wrong for me to fix it, though. Don’t shut me out, Stan. You can do this.” Stan nods a couple of times before he can organise his thoughts enough to think, breathing in the way that Richie helped him come up with a couple of years ago. He’s okay. He’s good. Nothing is going to change.

“What are we doing? Are we still friends, or… something else?” Stan asks eventually, his voice even enough for him to be a little proud of it. Mike nods once before putting his forehead against Stan’s, which is surprisingly reassuring, as are Mike’s wide hands on the back of his neck and his shoulder. They’re wide from a mixture of genetics and work, and Stan likes them. He’s always liked them.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend, Stan?” Mike asks, looking directly into Stan’s eyes. Stan can’t nod like this, so he’ll have to talk. Fuck. 

“Yes. I do want that,” Stan replies, blushing dark at his own awkwardness and thanking God for the night. Mike laughs and kisses his nose before pulling away, getting up almost faster than Stan can track. He holds out a hand to held Stan up and Stan takes it, embarrassingly attracted to the strength with which Mike pulls him up. He’s even more embarrassingly charmed by the way Mike keeps holding his hand, leading him back home. 

**Author's Note:**

> Send me It or Stranger Things prompts on tumblr @hcckstetter!


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